


Hazy Kisses

by Pleasekeepthecalm



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pleasekeepthecalm/pseuds/Pleasekeepthecalm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short Frerard oneshot based off a picture of Gerard found on twitter. Early MCR days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hazy Kisses

"Let me take your picture" Frank says. They're in Gerard's mothers basement on an old beat up sofa, sitting in a haze of smoke and booze smell. Gerard wiggles his toes in the dark shag carpet. He can't remember what day of the week it is.

Frank cradles an old and outdated Polaroid camera in his hands, sitting on his heels. He'd found it hours ago in the storage closet, still full of film. He's beaming, eyes watery from the beer. His hair is bleached and styled up into a half assed mohawk that's wilted to the left.

Gerard tosses his head back, staring at the ceiling with his greasy, lank black hair laying across his face. He puts out his cigarette on the beige couch arm, smiling at the burnt circle, about the size of a dime, and glances over at Frank, "okay". Frank sits back against the sofa arm and tucks his legs up to his chest, setting the camera on his knees as he snaps pictures of Gerard. Little white squares pop out of the camera and land on the floor to develop.

"I want to kiss you sometimes" Gerard mumbles quietly to the ceiling, maybe to no one. Maybe it's the booze, or the pills, he just says it.

The pink and grey camera is rebalanced on Franks knees carefully, "Really?". Gerard only half hears him, his head is swimming, drowning really. He picks at his multicolored striped scarf, distracted by loose threads.

Frank lights another cigarette and blows smoke up into the air, head tipped back. He's set the camera on the floor, tipped on its side.

Gerard reaches up to touch his own lips, distracted again. They're full and smooth, dry. He traces the raised edges, the outlines and creases of his lips and wonders how it would feel to touch Frank's lips this way.

"I want to touch your lips" it just slips out and Gerard rubs his eyes, he's so fucking stoned. Frank clambers over, taking Gerard's hand and pressing his fingers to his lips. They're angular and sharp, small and thin on top, pouty and full on the bottom. Shallow creases fill them up. He moves Gerard's hand to the side so he can smoke out of the corner of his mouth. It makes his lip curl.

Gerard pulls Frank into his lap messily by his wrists. There are limbs everywhere and calloused fingers cradling his jaw. Smaller pointed lips are pressed to his. They're chapped and taste like blood. Frank smells like smoke and booze and heat. Their lips are too wet together and sloppy from the alcohol. Little smacking noises fill the silence. Frank's cigarette is forgotten, dropped onto the dated couch where it's burning a charred circle into the cushion.

At some point they stop, but it isn't totally clear to either of them when exactly that happens. When kissing becomes not kissing, or how it tapers off.

"One more picture" Frank wipes his mouth on the back of his sweater sleeve covered hand roughly while Gerard sits back and spaces out, counting beige ceiling tiles.

 


End file.
